


Your Entertainment

by TheAssbuttOfCassbutt



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Caring, Concerned Castiel, Concerned Dean, Dean is a secret nerd, Empathy, Family, Flashbacks for the win, Fluff, Gay, Homophobia, Homophobic John Winchester, Homophobic Language, M/M, Masturbation, Masturbation Interruptus, Masturbation in Shower, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, POV Dean Winchester, Pain, Profound Bond, Profounder Bond?, Sad Castiel, Sad Dean, Sad everybody, Season/Series 12, Self Loathing, Sexual Fantasy, Slow Build, Slow Burn, Tension, There's A Tag For That, There's also a tag for that, Welcome to Superntaural, Wow what a surprise, actions speak louder than words, self hatred, welcome to supernatural
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-12-13
Updated: 2017-12-17
Packaged: 2019-02-14 02:13:42
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,036
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12997590
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheAssbuttOfCassbutt/pseuds/TheAssbuttOfCassbutt
Summary: Set at the beginning on Season 12.Dean insists Sam and Mary Winchester go on a hunt together, just the two of them, to build the bond they never got to have. Meanwhile, Dean stays at home, in the bunker, with his best friend, Castiel.With the silence and lack of interruption for once, they find themselves pushing the boundaries more than they ever thought they would and neither seems to notice until it's too late and broken words are whispered into ears and depraved desires are finally acknowledged.A.K.A. The one where everyone is sad and Cas gives Dean what he needs.





	1. Tension

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Y'all better appreciate this. I wrote the first half one letter at a time on a PS3 controller and the second half on a broken keyboard where I had to copy and paste half the letters while I enjoyed a good few hours of sitting back waiting for my laptop to stop overheating and crashing. All fun, fun, fun.
> 
> Also, I'm not sure why I said "y'all" I've lived in England my whole life. o_0
> 
> Regardless, please enjoy the first chapter of "Your Entertainment" - title based off the song by Adam Lambert.
> 
> (Update: Drew some art)

Dean Winchester, Hunter Extraordinaire, hero to men, women, children and the occasional good monster, nightmare fuel for baby Ghouls, Shifters and Wendigos the world over, was pacing the kitchen in his underwear, humming the lyrics to some catchy song he'd overheard at some point on a case, working himself up to flip his third pancake. Or rather, he was going to attempt to flip it, technically, this would be his seven or eighth pancake, but no one needed to know that. Okay, okay, 3...2...1...

**_CRASH_ **

Shit.

Dean looked around to make sure no one had witnessed that little mishap. Nope, Cas was still M.I.A, holed up somewhere in the bunker and Sam and Mom were probably already in Dallas, working on their case.

Okay, great. He wasn't sure he could survive the teasing he'd get off Sam if he'd been witness to the fail of epic proportions that had just taken place inside the Men of Letters bunker. Dean looked, disapprovingly, at the mess he'd made. Maybe he shouldn't have greased up the pan so much if he hadn't wanted to drop the entire thing on the floor he thought absently to himself as he wiped his hands down on his thighs, realising a second too late that he had no fabric to rub his greasy palms on. Great, now he had to clean up the entire kitchen and himself.

Dean sighed as he began to clean up his mess, flipping the pan back over and scooping the remains of his semi-cooked pancake mixture back into it. Thank god Sam wasn't around to see that, he thought. He guessed it was just good karma, he seriously deserved some good brother points right about now for insisting that Sam and their mom take this hunt together to help build that bond that they never had the chance to have in Sam's youth. Dean, at least, had memories of angels and apple pie.

Tossing the mixture in the garbage, Dean threw the stainless steel pan into the warm, soapy water in the sink. Speaking of angels and apple pie, that gave him an idea, he and Cas never got to just sit back and chill when the world wasn't ending. Sure, Lucifer was free and most likely working on the second apocalypse but hey, sue him, this was the most vanilla things had been in as long as he could remember. No one was in immediate danger of death - no more than anyone else in their profession - and everyone he loved was under one roof, he was entitled to some damn pie with his best friend.

Question was, where was that son of a bitch hiding exactly? Not wanting to seem quite desperate enough to yell out his friends name in every section of the bunker, especially while greased up and practically naked, lest he give the angel a heart attack - can angels have heart attacks? Off topic, Dean decided to check the rooms Cas was most likely to be in, slipping on his dead guy robe as he walked past the table it rested on.

Let's see, rooms Cas frequents? Where would an angel of the lord spend their free time in a man cave? Hmm, pantry? Nope, guy didn't need to eat. War room? Nuh-uh, the guy wasn't there either. Library? Nopedy nope. Dean didn't blame him, Hardy himself would probably never want to touch another book in his life if he had to do half as much research in his entire life as the Winchester's did in a year. And for the record, it was not at all weird that he knew who Thomas Hardy was, Dean may not be much of a reader but he recognised genius when he saw it and he could appreciate a good plot. Besides, those old novels were filled with some pretty steamy stuff if you squinted. Except that Tess of the D'whatevers. That was just sick. Seriously, what kind of bastard rapes a girl, repeatedly lies to her and manipulates her and to top it all off, stands in the way of her true love?

Okay, so he was getting into dark Disney territory but damnit, he was allowed to have his own damn opinions on great literature and crap. Private opinions. Very deep-down, private opinions that Sam could never know off.

Damn, off-topic again. What was with Dean's head today? Shaking the aforementioned noggin, he got back to the task at hand. Let's see, pantry, war room, library, where else might Cas be? A thought suddenly came to him which had him wanting to bash his forehead against a wall in frustration at his own stupidity. He hadn't checked Cas' room yet.

He wasn't surprised he'd forgotten it if he was completely honest with himself - which Dean rarely was. The room was more of a symbol than a place of practical use given Castiel's apparent lack of need for sleep. Dean had given him the room as a way of showing that Cas was always welcome and wanted here at the bunker, or wherever Dean and Sam were. Dean always did believe that actions spoke louder than words.

It was with this belief in mind that he slowly inched open Cas' door and approached the figure sitting motionless on the bed, body facing the chair and the chest of drawers that lined the left side of the room while his head faced the floor, his shoulders slumped, a soft sigh escaping his lips as Dean placed his right hand on the angel's left shoulder.

They stayed like this for several long seconds before Dean opted for taking the seat facing Cas, not removing his hand. They sat in silence for an indeterminable amount of time that could have been minutes or years before Cas slowly raised his head to stare at Dean's hand where he began to subconsciously trace circles with his thumb.

Cas followed the circles with his piercing blue eyes, one, two, three loops. Four, five, six. Dean squeezed Cas' shoulder and trailed his fingers down the angel's arm, slower than strictly necessary, before coming to rest on top of his friend's hand.

Okay, this was gay, even for them, but screw it, Cas needed comforting and Dean was damned if he wasn't going to be there for his friend. Well, he was probably damned anyway but that was a different story.

"Cas, man, what's wrong?" Dean's voice was low and raspy from disuse, the last person he spoke to was Sam at 8pm yesterday evening as he ushered him out the door and it was closer to eight in the morning now after a not-so-full night's sleep. Needless to say, these were the first words he'd spoken today, aside from his low humming in the kitchen earlier, and he suddenly became aware of the overwhelming, self-conscious need to cough.

Cas chose this moment to look Dean in the eyes and the hunter choked around his cough as he came face to face with the unshed tears in the celestial beings eyes.

"Shit, Cas, what's going on?" he barely noticed how wrecked his voice sounded this time after his failed attempt at clearing his throat. He chose to focus instead on his friend's barely visible shudder and slow, pained response.

"I-I'm sorry. I just allowed it to catch up with me. I...please Dean, I can't. Please s-stop it. Just...just stop it. Please"

Between the restrained sobs and the shuddering breaths, it took Dean a second to understand what Cas was saying. And even then, he didn't understand, not really.

"Cas, I-I don't. What are you asking? Am I...? I'm hurting you, how do I stop? Come on Cas, you gotta help me out here, I don't want you hurtin' man, I don't need that. I-"

"Dean please!" interrupted Castiel, "Just stop it. Stop blaming yourself. Stop holding yourself accountable for everything, the world is not your responsibility." Dean begged to differ, "Everyone else's happiness is not your concern."

"Cas, I don't understand. What the hell are you-"

"I can feel it Dean. Every second of it, all at once, every minuscule drop and every ocean of it. I can feel how deep it runs and I know it scares you and that hurts me more than anything and everything else."

Dean met Cas' eyes with as level a gaze as he could muster, keeping his breathing in check and forcing his traitorous heart rate down, all thought of pancake grease and pie forgotten momentarily.

"What can you feel, Cas?"

Everything slowed to a halt like one of those movie scenes where everything changes in the blink of an eye and suddenly Dean feared the answer he knew to expect.

"Your pain."

He knew it was coming but it didn't make those two words any easier to swallow, didn't make them hurt any less. A stab of ice ripped through his heart as he saw himself reliving every moment Cas was apparently feeling right now. Every time he let down someone he cared about. Every time he watched someone he loved die, watched the life drain from their face, the light in their eyes drowned out by his oncoming depression.

He hated the pain but he reveled in it whenever he could, he deserved it and he knew that. But Cas did not deserve this, he was entitled to so much better than Winchester baggage and all Dean wanted right now was for it to stop.

"How long?" he found the words tumbling from his lips before he even had a chance to measure the weight of the question behind them.

"Always." whispered the angel.

Dean nodded, made sense. Cas was an angel, of course he could always feel this crap rolling off Dean in waves. But why couldn't he just tune out like he did with angel radio? And the most obvious question, why in the hell was this suddenly affecting him now? They'd been friends for years and Cas chooses today to just randomly break down? Yeah, no, Dean wasn't buying that.

Dean managed to express his thoughts in the fairly eloquent phrase, "Fuck, why?"

Cas shook his head, he didn't understand what Dean was asking. Yeah, no shit, Dean thought to himself.

Okay, second time's the charm, "Why now?"

Cas choked on an intake of breath and quickly diverted his eyes back to the floor.

Nuh-uh, not after this much progress. Dr. Phil would be proud.

Dean grabbed the angel's chin with the hand that wasn't currently occupied with tracing invisible patterns on his friends hand. He tilted Cas' face upwards in a quick motion and met his eyes defiantly. Castiel evidently found himself unable to look away as they stared openly at each other for what could easily have been hours.

Eventually Dean prompted his friend, breathing out his name like a prayer, though it was closer to a beg.

Cas' breath hitched at the dual assault on his ears and his mind. His eyes shook as he struggled to choose between focusing on just one of Dean's emerald green eyes before coming to rest on the plump, pink lips just inches from his own.

He leaned infinitesimally closer, overly aware of the fact that they were sharing breaths as he broke the silence with a whisper Dean wouldn't have heard if they were at a socially acceptable distance from each other. Not that Dean much cared.

What he did care about, however, was the confession that spilled from the angel's thick, chapped lips.

Two words, "Our bond."

Flashbacks to almost a decade earlier, a conversation between the two of them and Sam about who the angel liked more. Dean smirked as he remembered Sam's impression of Cas' "hello".

Cas caught the small smile and hesitantly mirrored it with his own features.

Dean was so glad to see this that he almost missed the question that spewed out of his own mouth, "What about our... _bond_?" It felt kinda weird to say, yet oddly satisfying. They didn't usually talk about this stuff. Good job his mouth was still somewhat with it because his mind sure wasn't. He doubted he's ever understand why he felt this way around Cas. Maybe it was the whole angelic thing? Doubtful, he hardly felt the same for Uriel or Gabriel. Regardless, he had to congratulate himself, it was a pretty good question and he reminded himself to stay tuned for what better be a pretty good answer.

He caught Cas' subtle jerk of his chin, attempting to avoid Dean's eyes. Well, this can't be good.

"It has...progressed."

Wait, what? What the hell did that mean?

"Progressed?" echoed Dean in a matching whisper.

Cas drew a ragged breath through parted lips as he dipped his head as much as Dean's iron grip would allow in a short nod. Nice of him to respect Dean's commanding gestures at least, ya know, considering how he could probably break every bone in Dean's body with a nod of his head if he wanted to. Dean suddenly felt significantly less confident in his gesture.

When Cas next spoke, his voice rasped in a tone so low that it sent a short, sharp shiver down Dean's spine, "Yes. Progressed. Our...friendship...relationship..." Dean's breathing doubled in the space of a fraction of a second. He was pretty sure Cas could feel his heartbeat speed up as tension filed the air in the shrinking space between them.  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Literally no idea when I'm going to update this so If you enjoyed this first chapter and want to see where this is going then make sure to smash that like button. Wait, no, wrong platform. Don't forget to follow the story or whatever you do on AO3, I'm more of a FFNet guy myself tbh. 
> 
> Please leave a review if you liked it, or hated It or wanna come out or something, idk. I'm here for you all. (All two and a half members of the Assbutt Army)
> 
> Til next time, later nerds.


	2. Shit

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Omg, what the? Since when do I actually come out with updates this fast? Well, don't get used to it. I'm the family disappointment for a reason.
> 
> Anyway, please enjoy this chapter. Or don't, your choice.

"Goddamn fags" mumbled John Winchester as he barged past two men on the sidewalk more than wide enough to accomodate all four of them. He shouldered them apart, smirking as their entwined hands broke apart and found their pockets. The men continued, heads down, with the newfound distance of a solid foot between them.

John barked a harsh laugh, "See? Even they know it's shameful, showing off their...faggotry - especially infront of kids. Damn freaks."

Dean was confused to say the least, what was so wrong about two men holding hands? Him and Sammy held hands all the time. How come it was okay for girls and boys to hold hands but not for two boys? Dean's seven year old brain couldn't comprehend it. He guessed this was just one of those times he had to accept that his dad knew best.

**Now:**

Dean was brought back to the present by the tickle of Cas' breath against his own lips.

Wait, when did they get so close?

Dean shifted uncomfortably and flicked his eyes to the left, no longer able to meet the angel's chilling gaze.

"Feelings...emotions..." Shit, was Cas still talking? "Dean, I...we-"

Wow, that dresser was dusty, someone should really clean that, like, right now.

"Um, Cas-"

"Dean, please, I need to say this."

Okay, cleaning was out. Boy, was it hot in here. Wait, did Dean leave the hob on? He should go check that as soon as possible, preferably immediately.

"For a long time now-"

Speaking of the oven, Dean was still covered in grease from his accident in the kitchen earlier. He really should take care of that.

"Years even, I've been developing certain feel-"

"Hey, uh Cas," interrupted the hunter, "I, uh, I hate to cut you off there buddy but I'm...uh, dirty-"

"Dean..."

"Yup, super dirty, filthy even. I'll, uh, be right back, promise."

Years of hunting instincts became what was most likely the only reason he was able to escape the situation, ducking out of reach as Cas' hand - the one Dean had previously been occupied with - shot out to grab Dean's arm. Half turning at the door, avoiding eye contact, he threw Cas an awkward wave before booking it to the bathroom on the second floor that he'd taxed for himself years ago when he'd figured out the water pressure in there was far superior to that of any world-famous waterfall.

He shrugged off his dead guy robe and let it pool at his feet by the door. Approaching the shower, he opened the screen door and turned the lever, watching as the effect was almost instant - jets of water cascading to the floor and draining to be collected and purified God knows where. Dean gave a little snort as he realised that God - Chuck, whatever - had actually used this shower before when he'd been moping about in the bunker last year.

Dean suddenly felt guilty for all the times he'd jacked off in this shower.

Ah well, why let that particular streak come to an end now? Steam was rising up in billowing clouds now, fogging up the large mirror over the sink to the right off him.

Dean hooked his thumbs under the waistband of his boxer briefs and wriggled his way out of them, kicking them up into his hand and pulling back on the elastic, flinging them into the growing pile in the corner.

Or, at least, he meant too. He cursed as his underwear landed in the open toilet. Gross. Shame too, he liked those boxers, they were well fitting - not to mention the fact that they were also his favourite colour.

He looked around for something to fish them out of the crapper with. Seeing nothing he particularly wanted to sacrifice, he resigned himself to the fact that he was going to have to get his hands dirty - literally.

Logically, he knew that the water was clean, he didn't know much about plumbing but he guessed it probably came from the exact same place his shower water did. Still, he had reservations about the general idea of sticking his hand in a toilet bowl, it'd be pretty embarrassing to explain if someone walked in on him. Which was entirely possible considering how few rooms in the bunker had locks on. Understandable considering how high the chances were of needing a quick escape at any time. And generally, it didn't bother Dean anyway, they were all guys here and all pretty comfortable with their sexuality. Hell, even Cas had sex with a woman that one time.

Luckily, he'd had enough words with Cas about personal space and bathroom etiquette in the past to be fairly confident that the angel would respect his privacy for the time being anyway.

As soon as he'd had a chance to talk himself into the task, he took a sharp intake of breath and cringed as he plunged his hand into the bowl.

"Ew, ew, ew."

The material was slippery and Dean almost shoved them into the pipe when he first tried to grip them. The back of his hand caught something as it was almost swallowed down the drain - or whatever it was called in a toilet, once again, Dean was not a plumber. He freaked out and pulled his hand back, noticing a small brown mark on the back of it. Okay, nope. Dean grabbed his underwear, launched them across the room into the sink and ran over to run the tap while he scrubbed at his hand.

If the logical part of Dean's brain had been working today, he would've realised that this was just rust - just plain old iron oxide. But no, Dean's panicked brain screamed shit. He was ass naked, covered in drying grease and now he had _shit_ on his hand. Great. Just freakin' great.

All thoughts of the magic fingers had left his mind at this point as him and his crappy fingers - now scrubbed red raw - climbed into the shower.

He tried to distract himself, relaxing into the hot pressure. Relishing in the feeling of the water beating down at a temperature that turned his skin scarlet. He didn't bother picking up a sponge, preferring to just let the water do it's work, washing away everything in it's path, all of Dean's filth disappearing with it down the drain.

It wasn't long at all 'til the prickling heat traveled from the back of Dean's neck and shoulders, down his spine and outwards to his abdomen where he felt a familiar stirring. Dean glanced down and grinned, trust him to get off on a little pain. Hardly surprising when you considered that in his line of work, a job was never complete without some kind of injury.

Focusing on the constant assault against his raw skin, Dean took himself in hand - his left hand - it felt a little weird at first but he it didn't take long to fall back into after years of broken fingers and fractured arms where he'd had to make use of his left hand upon occasion. And right now, no way was he using his right hand - his toilet hand - to touch his junk, which sounded kinda ironic when you thought about it.

Not that the hunter was in a state to be thinking about much of anything right now. He managed to conjure a fantasy involving a hot chick in crotchless panties to the forefront of his mind as he began to stroke himself slowly.

Not exactly the single sexiest thing he could think of if he put his mind to it but it'd do for now.

A few minutes later and he was really hitting his stride, feeling that coil in his stomach heating up and twisting slowly as he got closer and closer to the edge. A moment later and Dean realised this wasn't going to be enough. Tactic change, Dean's mind threw in an extra girl and removed all traces of clothing. Better, but not quite right. The girls teamed up, throwing him backwards against a wall, stalking towards him. One held his hands above his head while the other bit down his abdomen. Bingo.

It didn't take long for Dean to start gasping for breaths in the too hot air as he neared completion. His strokes became faster and firmer as he dragged his right hand down his torso, raking his nails, leaving red welts in their place.

Suddenly there was a short, sharp knock at the door. What the hell? Dean's eyes shot open as the fantasy faded from his mind. Wait, fuck, no, come back.

Chalking the noise up to his active imagination, he closed his eyes, leaned his head back against the wall behind him as he continued his ministrations. He struggled to restart the scene that had left his head and tried to come up with something else, anything really.

Images from porn mags, pay per view and short flashbacks to Dean's own past sexual experiences shot through his mind like a slideshow set to a ridiculous speed - Dean could hardly focus on any one image. Still, he willed himself to continue, grasping at what threads of pleasure he could find in the quick flashes of flesh on flesh and clashing teeth, delicious friction bringing him to the edge. He was finally going to...

A voice came from the other side of the bathroom door, "Dean?"

Fuck.

A crystal clear image of scruffy hair, furrowed eyebrows, electrifying blue eyes and perpetually dry lips shot to the front of his mind and damnit, Dean couldn't have stopped it if he tried. He let go of his dick and managed to open the shower door, stepping halfway out before his mouth fell open in a silent shout, his legs almost buckling as his hips jerked forward. Dean caught himself, gripping the edge of the cubicle door, helpless to watch as his torso folded, his chest catching the spray of his resulting pleasure. Fuck. Damnit.

"Dean?" repeated the voice from the other side of the door. "Dean, are you okay? I heard groaning. I'm coming in."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow, this chapter was actually longer than I expected, go me.
> 
> Also, sorry for spelling, punctuation or grammar but I mean, seriously, you try writing a goddamn essay with a boner.  
> (To clarify, I wrote this with my hands. I'm just so much of a writing GOD that I ended up with an erec- nevermind, no one wants to hear about that)
> 
> So like, that's it for this chapter, hope you enjoyed. For every comment I get, I'll give my boyfriend an inappropriate boner in public. I'll also be super happy reading the comments so there's two reasons to leave one. Though, let's be honest, you're all leaving them for the first reason.


	3. One step at a time

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Do not even talk to me. This chapter took me 2 days to write. 48 goddamn hours. i hate this laptop. Toshiba must think i love waiting around for 4 hours waiting for Google to open. FOUR HOURS people! Come on!
> 
> Okay, rant over. Hope you enjoy this horrifically unbeta'd chapter.

Dean panics and looks around for something to hold over his softening erection, catching himself in the mirror as he does so. He almost physically recoils at the sight of himself dripping wet and covered in red scratch marks and drying semen.

"Jesus, Cas, stay there. Don't come in, I'm in my birthday suit in here, man" he shouts.

The door clicks and opens a fraction of an inch, allowing Cas' voice to drift through to him much clearer, "It's nothing I haven't seen before, Dean."

Dean stutters out a jumble of "what"s, "when"s, and "how"s as he stumbles back into the shower, violently rubbing at the patch of cum that painted his chest and stomach, watching with relief as it joined the water circling the drain and disappeared somewhere Dean's guilt-riddled mind couldn't reach.

Cas cam be heard from outside, the sound slightly muffled now by the sound of the water beating down around Dean's ears, "When I dragged you out of hell and back into your body, there was hardly anything left after months of decomposing", Dean shuddered, I was forced to rebuild your form, atom by atom, layer by layer. I severely doubt that your own knowledge of every crevice and curvature of your own body comes close to rivaling mine."

"Yeah, okay buddy." Dean laughed, disbelieving.

"Thirteen thousand, nine hundred and seventy two." Cas stated as if it's meaning should be obvious.

"W-what?" Dean stammered.

Cas repeated the number and, at Dean's insistent silence, adds, "The number of individual freckles that dust the entirety of your skin from head to toe." Dean blinked. "You know, some believe that freckles are a result of kisses from an angel." Cas adds as an afterthought. "Most likely a myth, I've never had occasion to test the theory myself.

Dean decided not to comment and instead replies with, "Well, that's just swell Cas", his tone dripping with sarcasm. Now, do you mind leaving a guy alone while he takes a shower in the privacy of his own damn home?"

Cas seems to consider this before countering with, "What about the sounds I heard coming from this room?"

Dean thinks on the spot, coming up with a quick, fairly believable lie, "Nothing to worry about buddy, probably just the pipes settling."

He can practically hear Cas' frown and eye squint through the door as he considers this.

Dean sighs to himself, "Just go back to whatever you were doing before Cas, I'll come get you when I'm done."

Dean hears Cas deflate as he replies with, "Very well, I will return to sitting quietly on my bed, awaiting your company."

Dean chose not to focus on how else that could be taken and instead questions Cas on why he came in search of the hunter in the first place.

The angel replies, telling Dean that he thought the man seemed distracted and he wanted to see if he could help. "I also wished to continue our conversation," he added before Dean could retort, "I did not realise you would be in a state of undress"

"Yeah, Cas, that's generally how people take showers. Without their clothes. Just for future reference."

"I realise that, I just did not assume that this is what you meant when you said you were 'dirty'.

Dean decided to ignore that sentence and all it's connotations, replying with a clipped, "Uh-huh, now how 'bout giving a guy some damn privacy, huh?"

"My apologies", muttered the angel. Dean heard him cast an "I'll leave you too it." over his shoulder as he shut the door and walked away.

The hunter leaned back and relaxed into his shower for all of half a second before annoyedly huffing out a sigh to himself and turning off the water.

He stepped out of the cubicle and grabbed a towel from the rack, wrapping it around his waist, sparing one last glance at his reflection in the mirror before stepping out the room on his way to catch up with Cas.

Dean would later vehemently deny any accusation that he ran through the bunker, and he definitely didn't sprint - mainly for fear that his towel would unravel and fall from his hips without him noticing, leaving him to confront an angel of the lord with his goods hanging out for the world to see.

He reaches said angel on the corridor lined by the bedroom's of the bunker's residents, almost colliding with Cas as he turned the corner.

The older man, sensing the oncoming collision through the wet slap of approaching feet on the linoleum floor and the sudden whoosh of air as Dean's body sailed towards him, ducked out of the way and grabbed Dean's arm to halt the diverted journey of Dean's face to the floor, his hand sliding into place over the area his handprint used to occupy. Dean felt a flash of abrupt disappointment for some reason but didn't ponder on it.

Cas' grip on his arm tightened as Dean turned to face him, mumbling out a "Thanks."

The angel nodded as his eyes raked up and down Dean's barely clothed form, landing on the red scratches on Dean's chest. He raises an eyebrow in silent question but Dean shakes it off along with the hand on his bicep as he walks with feigned confidence to his own bedroom, trusting Cas to follow him.

He nods towards the bed in a silent gesture, inviting Cas to sit down, which he does as Dean walks over to the closet on the other side of the room. He opens it and begins rifling through plaid shirts and faded denim. He pulls out a random outfit - nothing spectacular, just a pair of old gray jeans and a casual brown and blue flannel.

He throws a glance at Cas who is staring intently at the wall in front of him. "No peaking." Dean grunts as he unpicks the towel from his waist and shimmies out of it, kicking it aside and pulling on the first pair of plain black boxer briefs he sees lining the floor of his closet. He threw a glance back at the man on the bed, he was still fixated on the wall. positioned stiffly.

"Relax man, you're gonna give yourself a hernia." sighed the emerald-eyed man, not looking forward to broaching the topic they needed to discuss. He crossed the room and took a seat to the right of his friend who made no move to take his advice. He took a deep breath and continued with, "Cas, buddy-" but was cut off by a long hard stare from the angel.

Dean went quiet and they both remained silent for a length of time before Cas looked down and let out a breath. Dean idly wondered whether angels even needed to breathe or not. He came to the conclusion that they probably did not, given how many other basic human necessities they decided to forego, eating, drinking, and sleeping just to name a few. He also found himself curious as to whether angels could sleep if they wanted to.

Castiel broke the silence by clearing bhis voice. Dean again wondered if there was any need for this or if it was just a human trait the angel had picked up. Said angel continued with a comment that both interested and struck fear into the hunter.

"Dean, the evolution of our bond into a strong denotation of itself does not matter. The...repercussions that may become apparent are the only thing of importance."

Dean swallowed, "What are you talking about, Cas? What kind of, uh, repercussions are we talkin' 'bout here?

Cas takes a brief moment to run a hand down his face, an incredibly human gesture, Dean thinks. His voice drops a solid octave as he utters his next sentence, "I'm, uh, not sure I'm comfortable discussing this with you, Dean."

"Well, tough shit, Cas. Anything involving me, I got a right to damn well know about it."

"Dean, I'm not sure you would be comfortable talking about this either." Castiel shifted uncomfortably.

"Don't mean a damn thing, Cas. All I know is that I'll be a hell of a lot more 'comfortable' when I know what I'm up against in contrast to sitting in the dark like I am right now." Cas avoided Dean's gaze, turning his head to the door, looking as though he was contemplating making a run for it. The hunter made a move to grab his arm to make sure he stayed put but halted with his hand hovering halfway between them, choosing to drop it back into his lap with a soft thud that god Cas' attention. "Why you gotta do this to me man? I thought things had changed between us, we're family now, you, me and Sammy. Come on Cas, you can tell me anything, I'm here for you. I get that you think you're helpin' by not talkin' about it but I gotta know what we're dealing with here buddy."

Cas' shoulders heave, raising up like a cornered animal's hackles, and then deflate in resignation, "Okay, Dean, if you think it best." He did. Cas took a deep breath and Dean again wondered exactly how necessary it was and what could possibly be affecting his friend like this. Cas continued with, "As I said, our bond has progressed," the hunter nodded silently, "I am experiencing new things, feelings, emotions, uh," Cas' eyes shifted to the floor as he coughed, "other things..." Way to be specific thought Dean. "I believe this has to do with the amount of time I have spent in close proximity to you. That you are - for lack of a better term - rubbing off on me." Because that didn't sound wildly inappropriate at all thought Dean sarcastically.

"Wait a sec," began the green eyed hunter, a thought forming in his head, "If I'm doing that to you, then how come you ain't, uh, rubbing off on me too?" He frowned, damn supernatural freaky angel bonding shit was confusing as hell.

"I'm not entirely sure, Dean. There isn't exactly an instruction manual for this. I'm afraid I have no explanation for it."

"Well, okay, but there's gotta be an explanation somewhere. Hell, we're in the biggest collection of supernatural voodoo info in the world, right? let's hit the library, we'll get this figured out." Dean inwardly groaned at the thought of more research.

"I'm not so sure Dean, this - whatever it is - has been developing for years now-"

"Wait." interrupted the hunter, "If that's the case, how come you just, like, broke down today? I don't get it, man, any of this making any sense to you?"

"Clearly, something must've changed between us recently. We just have to figure out what it is." declared the angel. "The source of the problem will most likely lead us to it's solution."

"Well, I'm afraid I can't help you there Cas. I'd have no idea how to go about messing with that stuff. I still think our best bet is research."

"I beg to differ, Dean, I believe it may be beneficial to question my brothers and sisters on the matter."

"You mean like...interrogation?" asked Dean with as much sensitivity as he could muster.

"No Dean, not torture." corrected the angel, "I still have allies, They are few and most likely well hidden for their own safety but, if I could seek them out, I could ask them-"

"Whoa, whoa, whoa! Hang on a sec." Interrupted the Winchester. "You wanna just waltz your way upto some douchebag angel's freakin' lair, knock on his door and Jehovah's Witness your way into the place, where there may or may not be other dicks with wings that are out to get you, ready to ambush you? Sorry man but I ain't having it. Besides, the less people or creatures or whatever that know about this, the better." Huffed Dean indignantly. And then, for good measure, "And we are definitely not telling Sam or Mom about it either, capiche?"

"Dean, you're acting as if this is some kind of weakness, something to be embarrassed about."

"Well, isn't it?"

Cas seemed almost hurt as he met Dean's eyes for a moment before his gaze fell back to his lap where he fiddled with the sleeve of his trenchcoat - Dean was really curious to know whether this was another human gesture Cas had picked up because of Dean. "I don't know, Dean, let's just tackle this one step at a time, okay?"

"Okay." he breathed out after a second's pause, "One step at a time"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Really, really sorry for typos, spelling, grammar, etc. Promise i'll check it ASAP.
> 
> Also, i'm working on two separate art pieces for this chapter so there's a reason to follow the story if you're not already.
> 
> Please drop a comment if you enjoyed it, or hated it, or want to know the secret of how to summon Satan (it's actually super easy, all you need is a box of corn flakes, a ball of string, a used candle and the head of a goat. All easy to find household items)
> 
> Anywho, i'll update this when i have the time to dedicate to bashing y head against a wall in frustration, til then, later bitches.


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